by Sandra Lake
Stupid girl has no idea what’s in store for her, Veronchka thought. When Prince Andrei had first suggested this assignment, she felt a small amount of hesitation. Katia had been generous with her family over the years, but only out of surplus. She had never invited Veronchka to Tronscar over the summers as she had Urho, whereupon Veronchka could have been placed in the path of wealthy merchants and noblemen—but no. Katia had little interest in female companionship, preferring to make a fool out of herself with the men in sport. Katia gave nothing more than her hand-me-down gowns to Veronchka and her sisters. The selfish, spoiled fools deserved whatever they got now.
As for Veronchka, she was no pampered princess. She would not be weak and feeble like her mother, accepting whatever scraps the men that used her threw to her. No, she was shrewder and much more beautiful than her mother had ever been.
As Prince Andrei had told her, proven loyalty would carve out her destiny as the rightful woman to stand at the side of the next Holy Roman Emperor: Andrei the God-Loving.
***
Katia’s heart hammered. She snapped the lower part of her skirt out of the way as she paced in front of the hearth. Lothair and her father were discussing the information Veronchka had risked her life to deliver.
Poor, sweet Alma had given her life. What torture they had been going through these many months as she lounged in a warm, comfortable bed with her husband.
Katia felt sick with guilt. She scrambled down the corridor, and emptied out her stomach into a bucket.
“Katia!” Lothair rushed to her side.
“I’m fine.” She stormed back to the hearth, where her father was watching her with concern.
“Are you ill?” her father growled protectively.
“No, Far, just twisted into knots with guilt. We must get to Urho in time. His mother, his sisters, when I think what they have been going through while I have been—”
Magnus raised his finger and pointed it angrily at her. “Katia, you will not go to Korski, do you understand me? I know that look in your eye. You have nothing to be guilty over. This is the fault of Andrei the Cur for invading Finland. Your brother would not have your head severed in his place.”
“Far, he is my brother! You would burn down a thousand kingdoms for Uncle Hök. I cannot sit on my backside sewing cushions while my brother is slaughtered by the man I enraged.”
Lothair spun her around by the shoulder. “This is not about you, Katia! This is about a madman bent on power. Get this through that thick head of yours: you are not going to Korski!”
Katia could see there was nothing she could do right now. She stomped across the hall and raced up the stairs to Veronchka.
She pushed into the guest chamber that was only a few doors down the corridor from her own. Veronchka was reclining in a steaming bath with a cup of malt wine in her hand. She looked almost restored.
“Is there anything else I may get you for your comfort, Veronchka?” Katia said quietly, moving closer to the side of the tub.
Veronchka smiled weakly. “Oh, Katia, no. My thanks. Your maid has ordered a small meal, but I know not how I will ever be able to eat again.”
“Aye.” She started to wash Veronchka’s hair with soft lavender soap. “Please, if you are able, tell me of our brother, of your sisters and your mother?”
“The little ones we have no word of for almost four months. Urho smuggled them aboard a fishing vessel days after the Slavic forces descended upon us. Mother was adamant that Urho stay and defend his land. She said that the people would never respect him as their chief if he ran and hid. Alma refused to leave Mother and I refused to leave Alma. What fools we all were.”
Veronchka dried herself before the fire and Katia saw what appeared to be nasty bruising around her breast. She would not force her friend to confide a private pain, yet she had to acknowledge the evidence that was right before her very eyes.
“Veronchka, shall I send for the healer?” Katia asked. It was clear the young woman had been badly misused.
“No, I care not for what I have suffered. I must tell you of our poor brother. They found out that he was a boat builder, so for many months he was fed well and not beaten too severely as long as he would work in the boat sheds, but it was discovered last week that he was deliberately building sinkable vessels. He was doing something strange with the overlapping or the rivets. They whipped him.” Veronchka shuddered. “I begged the commanders for mercy and that is when they turned on me. They say they will cut his hands off first and then his head before the entire village. The price anyone will pay for betraying the Slavs.”
Bile rose again from Katia’s stomach. She swallowed down the burning pain. She could not sit here in Tronscar doing nothing while her brother was tortured and slain.
“I must go back. I must try and save them, Katia.” Veronchka said.
“But that is not what Urho would want.” Katia took her hand. “He set you free so that you could live. He would not want you to risk your life.”
“But what about my mother? I do not care what happens to me now. Alma is gone and I have nothing more to live for. I have a plan. I will sneak into Korski under the cover of darkness.
“I will slip a blade under the door where they are keeping my brother, and I will pick the lock when the guard is not looking. All I need is but a few moments and I know I could save him.”
“It is too dangerous, Veronchka.”
“I was able to sneak out undetected, I know I can sneak back in. If you would but lend me a boat to return. I could have the lock opened and my mother and brother safe and back in the boat in minutes. Even if the jarl sends his ships, the scouts will announce them coming and the prisoners will be executed. A small vessel, carrying just one or two persons, could sneak in undetected. Katia, will you help me?” she pled quietly.
Katia was torn. If it became too dangerous, they could always turn back. It was not like they were going thousands of miles away—with a fast boat and the right winds, they could fly across the gulf. It did stand to reason that two small people who had extensive knowledge of the grounds of Korski and its keep could sneak in undetected . . .
She should ask Lothair to come. He would understand that she needed to rescue her brother.
No—he would never let her go. He was too protective. If anything, he would lock her in her room.
No, if she was going to do this, she needed to act now.
“I will help you, Veronchka, but we need to be very quiet about this. We cannot tell anyone.”
“Bless you, Katia.” Veronchka threw her arms around Katia’s neck.
Chapter 24
Concealed by the dim predawn light, Katia and Veronchka used all their combined strength to drag the small boat through the spring snow. Urho had gifted her the speedy little sailboat just last year. It had an easily maneuverable sail and an oddly shaped rudder and keel, providing a shocking amount of speed and control.
Stealing out of Tronscar had not been difficult in the least. Katia had had years of practice. Lothair had slept like the dead after they had made love. She knew that he would be furious with her in the morning. It would take months for him to forgive her, but Katia comforted herself by deciding she would spend the rest of her life making it up to him.
With the wind shifting in their favor, Katia sailed across the gulf with little effort, arriving at a marsh north of Korski at twilight. They hid the boat among the reeds and waited for the heavy fog of night to conceal their approach into Korski by foot. As they drew near to Korski, Veronchka grew noticeably more nervous.
“Katia,” Veronchka whispered only a few steps from an outbuilding. “Thank you for coming.”
Katia rubbed Veronchka’s shoulder. “You are my sister, Veronchka, of course I had to come.”
Veronchka gave a strange sort of wince, shrugging off the touch—it was just a small thing, not a major chang
e in her expression, but a dark look that Katia had not expected. No doubt the young woman must be terrified to be returning to the place where she had suffered so greatly.
The warming temperature and the rapidly melting snow created a thick fog along the tree line that circled Urho’s once proud fortress. They crouched low and crept silently toward the stronghold.
“They are in there,” Veronchka said. Without warning, she bolted across the open field to a group of small, timber-framed storage huts.
There was a large iron lock on the door, and Katia watched as Veronchka took it in her hand and opened it with surprising ease. Veronchka stepped inside and Katia hunched down and darted across the field. She peeked her head into the hut and, sensing no threat, quickly rushed in. Her eyes took a moment to adjust and search the small dark space.
It was empty.
“We are too late.” Katia gasped in anguish.
Veronchka stood stiffly, her face blank. “Actually, we’re just in time.” Sounds of heavy feet rushing through soft snow came toward them. “I am sorry, Katia.” She looked past Katia, and Prince Andrei stepped into the hut, an all too familiar victorious grin on his face.
Katia did not even blink. She did not gasp or cry out. She had learned nothing.
Lothair had warned her over and over again to learn from her mistakes, but she hadn’t. She thought she knew better than her father and had charged into Bogolyubovo and nearly gotten Tosha killed. Now she had sailed in a straight line into Andrei’s traps.
“My golden one, oh, how I have missed you.” Smiling broadly, Andrei strolled into the hut. A large man carrying a torch followed; it was Vladimir, the goon who had attempted to attack her all those months ago in the hall at Bogolyubovo. “When we learned that we had chanced upon the village of your bastard brother, imagine my joy. Yet another blessed sign, is it not? God delivers rewards to his faithful servants.”
Katia retreated into the corner, her back banging against the thin plank wall. Andrei advanced, raising a gloved hand to capture her chin. She jerked her head away.
“Vladimir, do me the service of exorcising the demons out of this one. I care not for her spirited grappling tonight.”
Vladimir stalked forward across the hard-packed dirt floor. He raised his closed fist and punched her in the face. She went straight to the ground. She could taste dirt on her lips but she felt no pain. The hammering panic of her heart and the ringing in her ears overwhelmed everything.
“I said exorcise the demon out, not kill her!” Andrei barked. “How many times do I have to remind you? Not the face with the pretty ones, not until I give you leave to do so. I prefer her nose in place. And I don’t want to get a lot of blood on me when I purify her wicked soul. Just the belly. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sire.”
Time became immeasurable, a blur of blows to her stomach, back, and thighs. When she could, she gulped for air.
Her head was left untouched, but eventually, she lost consciousness.
Chapter 25
Katia roused to a stretching burn in her arm sockets. She was dangling a few feet off the ground, her arms tied to a chain hanging from the ceiling. Odd how the mind wanders during such immense pain; she recognized the chain link. It had been crafted in Tronscar, likely by her good friend Macki.
She wiggled her fingers and toes. Regrettably, she was not simply still alive, but able to feel everything. Every breath stabbed her with a thousand piercing blades from inside her chest, and every muscle was on fire and pulsing with pain. She surveyed her body. She wore a clean white linen nightshirt that she had not put on.
The pain made it nearly impossible to breathe. Fever must be taking its hold on her. She began to sweat profusely and shiver. She would die here, and Lothair and her father would never forgive her for her stupidity. She closed her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to surrender to the pain, surrender to death, and cowardly sink away from this world. “Lothair. Forgive me,” she murmured.
Suddenly, the door of the wooden shack shattered into a thousand shards. She closed her eyes, turning her face from the flying debris. She could hear the distinct sound of the Tronscar battle cry.
Katia could only make out blurred flashes of Tronscar helmets, polished iron breastplates, and slicing broadswords. In her mind, she screamed for Lothair, yet her heart recoiled at the thought of him seeing her this way—humiliated, bleeding, and shamed.
Lothair deserved someone so much better than her. Not a wife who constantly found herself in trouble, needing a man to rescue her.
One arm slid under her back, the other under her knees. She knew it was Lothair, but she shut her eyes, not able to look at him. She heard an axe hammering, feeling the violent tug to her wrists as she was freed. He clutched her to his chest as he had done a hundred times before, tenderly, protectively, effortlessly.
“Kat.” Lothair bent his head down, needing to smell her hair, to rest his temple against hers. Having her in his arms was not enough to assure his heart that he had her back.
He quickly kneeled, holding part of her weight against his thigh as he unwrapped his cloak and swaddled her in it. Her body was dripping sweat and blood.
“I have you, Kat. You are safe. I have you,” he whispered into her ear. He had failed her. Locking her out of the war council had been a disastrous mistake. Magnus’s troops had been assembled, along with the entire Norrland fleet, waiting down the coast for the signal to launch the invasion of Korski. They were only waiting for follow up reports from Urho’s spies. He should have told her—oh God, this was his fault.
“Katia, tell me, where are you hurt?” He searched under the cloak, not seeing where the blood was coming from, finding no obvious sign of a stab wound. Her eyes remained squeezed tightly shut, letting him know she was awake.
He stood, holding his beloved high and tight to his chest while all around them close combat took place. He looked over his shoulder to see his father-in-law with his boot on Andrei’s throat. King Canute’s emissary was tugging at his sleeve, pleading for Magnus to halt, saying the prince was not to be harmed. Lothair hated politicians near as much as he hated the ungodly prince. He needed to get his wife into clean air, away from the stench of blood and corruption.
“Lothair!” Magnus shouted. Lothair turned to witness Andrei’s arms being pulled behind him by Rikard, who wrenched the prince up off his feet. Magnus’ face was tense, concerned now only for his daughter’s condition.
“She lives, but she . . . she needs a healer.” Lothair locked eyes with the mighty jarl.
***
Magnus read the challenge in the young baron’s eyes. Lothair appeared prepared to kill any man, even Katia’s own father, if he was made to release her.
“Come, my ship is fastest. Tero will know the best healer,” Magnus said. “Tero! Aleksi! Find the healers and supply them with what they need. We depart for Tronscar immediately. My daughter needs her mother.” Magnus looked down at her battered face. Would she live long enough to reach her mother? He craved to take Katia from her husband, hold her in his own arms, but resisted the urge.
Magnus said reassuringly, “She is strong. Her mother will make her well.”
“She—she does not speak,” Lothair said.
He swallowed the bile in his throat and looked over his shoulder. Only a few small clashes were still going on near the forest—the rest of the Rus and Slavic soldiers had surrendered. Many were still blinking the sleep from their eyes.
“Urho,” Katia said in a small voice.
Magnus stroked her soiled hair and spoke close to her ear. “He is well, my little Kat. He executed his assigned mission with great honor. I will bring him to you directly.”
“Assigned mission?” Katia’s small hand slipped out from under the cloak and he took her hand. “Urho lives?”
“Indeed. He served his people with distinction. He is a wise and
brave chieftain, a credit to his family.”
“But Veronchka . . . she . . . ”
“Will be dealt with by her kinsmen.” Magnus looked to Lothair to find agreement. “The woman’s betrayal of her countrymen shall be judged by her chief,” he said. Magnus then turned to speak to his commanders, who had regrouped to await further instruction. The original battle plan had been altered to prioritize locating Katia. “Nourish the lawn of Korski with Rus and Slavic blood,” Magnus decreed.
“Magnus, no,” a soldier said from behind the jarl. It was Ambjorn, King Canute’s chief counsel. “This is not to our agreement, cousin.” Ambjorn took a cautious step forward. He was another high-ranking member of the House of Eric.
“That agreement was based on Andrei’s lust for the Swedish throne, not extracting vengeance upon my daughter! I will have all their heads,” Magnus stated.
Ambjorn waved his arms in a gesture of ‘nay’. “I wish I could grant you the solace, cousin, but I cannot. Your daughter’s treatment at the hand of Prince Andrei was unfortunate, yet the courts may see it as some reverse plot on your account to have cause to slaughter your old enemy. They will surely ask how Lady Katia came into the hands of the Rus invaders.”
Magnus breathed and endeavored to focus his mind. He never was able to see clearly when it came to his wife and children. Andrei, the gutless snake, had been waiting in the grass for years for Sweden to be left vulnerable enough to attack, seeking his revenge for the shame he had experienced at Swedish hands more than twenty years ago. Katia, his beautiful, stubborn, misguided girl had simply been used to make his vengeance that much sweeter.
Ambjorn continued to argue with Tero and Rikard. “The agreement with the King of Poland and the Holy Church requires that Prince Andrei live. Break the peace accord and we will be at war on yet another front.”
“Every man who has stood against my house will pay for what they have done to her. We collect our debt this very hour.” Magnus stepped forward to challenge Ambjorn.
